


Ghost of Nothing

by jynx



Series: Ghost of Nothing [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin is a hot mess, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Jedi Bonds, Jedi Marriages, M/M, Obi-Wan is a hot mess, Slow Burn, THIS IS A QUIOBI FIC, TPM!Qui meets TCW!Obi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 21:43:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15033929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: The Force, for some reason, has decided that Obi-Wan needs to have his dead Master back in his life. Funny thing? Last thing Qui-Gon remembers is being killed by Maul on Naboo and it's the sixth year of the Clone Wars for Obi-Wan. Anakin is overjoyed, Ahsoka LOVES her great-grandmaster, and Obi-Wan is eying that airlock like it might just be the answer to everything wrong in his life.





	Ghost of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> >D Enjoy, my dears.
> 
> SO MUCH LOVE to, uh: AnUnexpectedParty, Cuzosu, Meggory, and Sanerontheinside for eyeballs/beta/etc. Also, to my Discord people for letting me WAIL like a nut about this. I love you and you are awesome. 
> 
> **Edit 5/12/19** : So this is officially being updated. I have 4 chapters posted here (they're being deleted, shhh) and I have 3 chapters rewritten and edited. I am working on this, doves, I promise. This is just...idk. I am trying to finish Casket so I can say I finished something. And then I need to sit down and work on the plot for this. Because of reasons, this whole thing has basically uhm. Changed course.
> 
> Much love to the new betas who kicked this thing into shape: AtThisPointWhoEvenKnows and SurferofDreams (if either of you would prefer different names, let me know)

“What does Master Windu want with us?” Anakin asked as they gathered on the hanger deck. 

Obi-Wan looked up at him, unimpressed. “Anakin, you were there, same as I, when the message came in. He didn’t say.” 

Commander Cody and Captain Rex were with them, datapads in hand, as the work of running a war and managing the men never ended. Cody handed him the pad, pointing out the supplies they needed to request, and Obi-Wan sighed. They were very low on munitions and medical supplies after that last engagement. He saw Rex speaking to Anakin about something, probably about the 501st’s requisitions as well, which would end up being pawned off on Obi-Wan in favor of Anakin wanting to work on something else. Most likely something mechanical that would end up helping, in the long run, while causing just as many problems as it solved. At least his heart was in the right place. 

Mace’s shuttle landed as Obi-Wan signed off on Cody’s requests, only changing a few things to give them more padding. He wasn’t sure, but he had a feeling they would need more medical supplies than Cody had marked off. 

“Finally,” Anakin said, hands in the air. “Answers!” 

Cody’s lips barely twitched, but just enough that Obi-Wan saw. He was deeply fond of his Commander, a much better fit to him than Alpha-17 ever was, even if Cody had only been with him a little under two years. The war did make fast friends of them all. 

“What does the rumor mill make of this?” Obi-Wan asked quietly. 

“Some new Seppie plot,” Cody said. “A superweapon, probably. Someone put money on someone’s illegitimate child, another on the Council finding out about Skywalker’s marriage, and there were some other ridiculous ones being tossed around. Rex might have spread a few himself for fun.” 

“Let’s hope it’s not about Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed, stroking his beard. “We can’t afford that sort of distraction right now.” 

The ramp to the ship lowered and Mace exited, followed immediately by… 

“Qui-Gon?!” Anakin exclaimed, stumbling forward a step before striding up to the man to clasp his shoulders in excitement. 

He stood straighter, as if some unknown string had been plucked and yanked him upright. His heart began to race uncontrollably. He swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. His hand drifted to the hilt of his lightsaber, shaky, as he gripped it tight. This couldn’t be. How could this be? There was a rushing in his ears, just slightly, as he shifted to step in front of Cody--his Commander wasn’t currently armed and there was a _threat_ \--there was something trying, trying so hard to get his attention and he shoved at it, ignoring it. No, no, this was not. No. His fingers were tingling where they were gripping his lightsaber as cold spread out from his core. 

The only reason he hadn’t drawn and ignited the blade was because Mace was there and that lent the smallest chance to this being legitimate. There weren’t many ways that Qui-Gon Jinn could be standing here, alive, without there being some form of trickery and outright perversion of life, but if the Head of the Order was escorting him here then there was a reason for it. 

“Sir?” Cody asked, his eyes widening slightly. There was a beat of hesitation on Cody’s part before he set a hand on Obi-Wan’s elbow--rested, the slightest bit of grounding contact. “Is there cause for concern?” _Is there a threat_? 

“Obi-Wan,” Mace said, coming over and blocking his view of Anakin and whoever _that_ really was. It was not Qui-Gon, it was not possible. He had been burned on a pyre and gone and people did not come back from the dead. “I wanted to speak to you before we landed but the circumstances prevented that. A solar storm kicked up and knocked out most of our communications.” 

“Mace,” Obi-Wan said, taking care to keep his voice steady. He forced himself to stand at Cody’s side, to ease back just the slightest. If he was possibly overly sharp and to the point it merely drove home his seriousness. If Dooku had gone so far as to find some way to recreate Qui-Gon then they had far more serious problems than anyone wanted to consider. The fact he was almost hoping that was the situation said something that Obi-Wan was not sure he wanted to examine about himself. “Explain this.” 

“It is him,” Mace said immediately. “He appeared, for lack of a better word, at the power station on Naboo a few weeks ago. The Naboo contacted the Temple and the healers went through every record we had on him to verify him, but it is him.” 

Obi-Wan glanced at the man who was smiling at Anakin, the two men speaking genially, and shook his head, the cold feeling growing. “No,” he said. “Qui-Gon Jinn _died_ , Mace. He died and we--I burned his body. It has been _sixteen_ years. You do not just--just come back from the dead like that. Not without help.” 

Mace nodded, agreeing with him, but not in the way Obi-Wan wanted him to. “My friend, the Force works in mysterious ways. This you know.” 

Cody was watching him, a cool expression that belied his uncertainty. Obi-Wan could feel himself begin to unravel and schooled his expression into the blank neutrality of diplomacy. He forced his body to relax and clipped his lightsaber to his belt as he strengthened his mental shields. 

“What is it that the Council wants of me?” Obi-Wan asked. The Council needed something, clearly. There had to have been a meeting, one he had obviously been excluded from, and that only added to his sense of deep foreboding. He would be giving Mace an earful at a later date and in private to make sure his friend understood the level of his displeasure. 

“You were his Padawan,” Mace said. “You, better than anyone, know how he thinks and works. He is, unfortunately, operating with a sixteen year memory gap.” 

Cody made a tiny noise as he shifted and Obi-Wan wanted to throw Mace off his ship. The Council wanted him to _teach_ the possible Qui-Gon Jinn impersonator? Even if it _was_ Qui-Gon, and that was quite a stretch, his former Master had never been the easiest man to school. This was a well-known fact in the Temple. 

Did Mace even know what he, what the Council, was asking him to do? Were their memories so short? Obi-Wan took a deep breath through his nose as he tried to calm himself, releasing the flare of anger and tangle of uncertainty-grief-despair-shock into the Force with his breath. 

It had taken a Healer almost a full year to put him back together after Qui-Gon’s death the first time and the Council thought it was a good idea to put him back in the same situation again? His mind could hardly even consider the Naboo mission without being gently redirected to some other, less damaging thought these days. 

Obi-Wan smelled Yoda’s clawed hand in this meddling, just like the troll had meddled before. Yoda never could leave well enough alone. Cody’s armor made a soft grating noise as it shifted and he gently nudged him; he’d been grinding his teeth. So much for releasing his anger. Even Mace was looking at him with a raised brow. Obi-Wan checked his shields and smoothed them as he cleared his face of everything but a neutral expression. 

“The Council wishes me to fill in this gap and then, what, teach him how to run an army? Turn him into a General?” Obi-Wan asked in clarification, clasping his elbow in one hand as he stroked his beard. All the better to hide his expression and remind himself to ease up on his jaw and teeth. 

“For the moment, merely evaluate him,” Mace said with that too-knowing look. “If anyone can get through to him, Obi-Wan, it is you.” 

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes to the decking. Oh, if only Mace truly knew… “I will do as the Council commands,” he said. By all the little Force gods, maybe he’d go insane from this mess after all and the Council would grant him a break. He’d kidnap his men and take them somewhere with a beach and water, let them swim if they’d like, have some tropical drinks, and he’d _sleep_. 

“Trust in the Force,” Mace said. “It will all be all right.” 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, coming back over. His former Padawan was as excited as a child at fete week, bright and excited in a way Obi-Wan had not seen in years. “Can you believe it? Master Qui-Gon is alive!” 

Obi-Wan glanced at Captain Rex over Anakin’s shoulder, who was watching Anakin in interest, before finally examining the man claiming to be Qui-Gon. The man held himself like Qui-Gon, he’d give him that, and appeared to look the exact same, down to the last detail; his hair was the same silver-brown length Obi-Wan remembered, and his nose still looked perfect in its brokenness. He knew that memories faded over time, but he hadn’t thought Qui-Gon had quite that many lines around his eyes. He was wary but the...Qui-Gon merely arched an elegant brow and smiled. 

“You do not believe I am myself, do you?” Qui-Gon asked. 

“Of course he believes it’s you!” Anakin said, frowning, as he turned to Obi-Wan. “Tell him, Obi-Wan, you know it’s Master Qui-Gon. Don’t you?” 

Obi-Wan cut a sharp glance at Anakin who immediately shut up. “You have convinced the Council and the Healers,” Obi-Wan said, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against the armor for show. “However, what they would have tested against can be easily falsified. I spent seven years with Qui-Gon Jinn. It is me that you need to convince.” 

Mace shook his head in amusement. “You don't need to be so difficult about this,” he said. 

Difficult? He’d show the other Jedi “difficult”. Obi-Wan snapped his fingers, projecting an authoritative air and knowing his Commander would pick up on the game. “First! Commander Cody, the datapad, if you please?” 

Cody gave a slow smile and handed Mace the pad. “General,” he said with all the gravitas he could muster. Obi-Wan did so adore his Commander. It helped that Mace had been Cody’s first General and this was likely a way to bait the other man for the Commander as well. 

“I require your authorization on these requisitions,” Obi-Wan said, keeping his face carefully blank. “And no, you may not alter the numbers.” 

Mace glowered at him as Anakin and Rex turned to hunch over their own datapad. “Are these amounts really necessary?” he asked, looking concerned. Of anyone on the High Council, Mace should know the numbers were not exaggerated, and even more that Obi-Wan would not do such things. 

“Yes,” he said, feeling maybe-Qui-Gon’s eyes on him like a physical weight. “The 212th alone is dangerously low on munitions and medical supplies, let alone the rest of the 7th Sky Corps. If you’d like, I would be more than happy to give you a tour of our stores?” He paused, glancing at Cody who nodded. Neither of them liked the idea but it did need to be done. “I will also be submitting requests for more personnel once we have finished the casualty lists.” 

Mace glanced at him before nodding and signing his name. “Send them to me when you are done.” 

Obi-Wan dipped his head slightly and accepted the datapad back. “Of course.” He glanced at the man claiming to be Qui-Gon, finding the man staring at him. “What?” 

“You are startlingly competent at running an army,” he said with a slight frown. 

Obi-Wan could feel Cody, and every clone in hearing distance, bristle in outrage, the Force coloring with it. It was surprisingly the most Qui-Gon thing the man could have said and it eased something inside of him. A simulacrum or a clone would not know how to behave correctly, and there was no one in the galaxy who could deliver a backhanded compliment quite like Qui-Gon Jinn. 

“Still the same insensitive asshole I remember,” Obi-Wan said with a pleasant smile. He turned to Mace with a nod. “While I have my doubts about the validity of his identity, Mace, I will do as the Council requests. If you gentlemen will excuse me? I have work do.” 

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, voice stern. 

“Not your Padawan any longer,” Obi-Wan chided. No, no longer a Padawan; no longer forced to swallow the hurts Qui-Gon carelessly sent his way. 

Mace chuckled, “I’ll just leave you two to it then?” 

Anakin’s eyes were wide in shock, though Obi-Wan detected an almost satisfied curl to Cody’s lips. Obi-Wan hummed softly, tipping his head to the side, and Cody nodded. 

“General,” Cody said. “The other inspections?” 

“Anakin, if you could settle Master Jinn?” Obi-Wan asked, taking a little bit of pleasure in the lost look both men sent his way. “Excellent. I will borrow Captain Rex and see to the 501st as well then.” 

“Uh, well,” Anakin stammered, trying to come up with any protest and failing. It wasn’t like Anakin actually _wanted_ to do his rounds and would have found a way to pawn them off on someone else anyway. Since the 501st was part of System Army Gamma they were ultimately Obi-Wan's responsibility and there was no harm taking a little bit of personal interest in their situation. 

“That works,” Rex said, fighting a smile. 

“Send me whatever forms need signing,” Mace said, stepping back onto the shuttle with a wave. “I want weekly reports, Kenobi!” 

Obi-Wan eyed his friend’s sealing shuttle, plotting what slimy creature he could bribe Ponds into sneaking into his bed, before turning and smiled at Cody and Rex. “Well then, shall we?” 

If they had been anywhere else, he knew the two clones would be smirking. As it was, they saluted and fell into step behind him as he strode out of the hanger. It took a tremendous amount of effort to walk away as _something_ screamed in his head, but he kept his shoulders down and his back straight. His Master was dead and that was nothing more than one of the CIS’s plots. It would be exposed in due time but currently he had a duty to his men to see to. It would not do, after all, to be deployed to the next engagement without the proper amount of supplies and ammunition. 

= 

“So,” Rex drawled, “what was that?” Apparently he was done waiting for Obi-Wan to fill him and Cody in on the gossip and had decided to prompt the conversation on his own. Always a self-starter, their Captain. 

At some point in the past year, year and a half since Rex and Cody had been assigned to him and Anakin as their new Command Clones, Obi-Wan had found himself drawn to the two. It was nice, in a way, to have friends among the clones. His own friends he barely saw, or even spoke to outside a quick comm, anymore because of this blasted war and while he knew they were among the living it wasn’t the same. In private, like now, rank fell away and the three of them could simply be Obi-Wan, Cody, and Rex which meant that teasing and gossip was open season. 

Obi-Wan huffed, trying not to smile, as he looked through the food stores, “What was what?” 

It seemed that they were in decent shape for food. Good. They should still request more, especially with more personnel coming aboard soon. It depended on the next few engagements--where they were, how far from the supply chains they ended up, and their fuel consumption. He hated that he could calculate these things in his head now but six years of war changed everyone, even Jedi. 

“Come now, Obi-Wan,” Cody said, setting his datapad aside with a teasing smile. “You looked like you wanted to take that man’s head off. You usually only reserve that for Grievous, Dooku, or _vod’e_ that get between you and tea.” 

Rex snickered and Obi-Wan gave a put-upon sigh, finding a storage container to sit on and spread his arms wide. “All right, get it out of your systems, you two. I’m aware the situation is going to cause quite a stir amongst the rest of the men as it is--” 

“Oh, you think?” Rex said, finding his own place to sit. 

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at the blond. “Are you _sassing_ me, Captain?” Cody laughed as Rex gave Obi-Wan the most innocent smile possible. He looked far too happy about this for Obi-Wan’s taste, the brat. He’d have to look up the sports scores and see who was playing when, and see if he could rain on Rex’s proverbial parade a little later. “I don’t believe this. I’m being sassed. Me. What is this galaxy coming to?” 

“That I’ve learned from the best?” Rex guessed. 

Obi-Wan grinned, “Good save.” 

“Who is Qui-Gon Jinn?” Cody asked as he and Rex settled themselves on a large shipping crate and leaned against each other comfortably. 

“He was my Master,” Obi-Wan said, drawing a knee to his chest. The ache in his chest hurt and the warning twinge in his mind warned him to keep it simple. He wished he was younger, more flexible, so he could prop his chin on his knee and twist into positions that would make it easier to hide away. He hated this topic, the topic of his Master and how he died, the topic of his Master at all. He could not focus on Naboo, on the events there; they slipped through his mental fingers like sand. “He died sixteen years ago against the Sith, Darth Maul, and found Anakin on Tatooine. Qui-Gon was one of the best diplomats the Order had, a talented duelist, and extraordinarily kind when he wanted to be.” He gave the two men a wry smile. “He did, however, have the oddest ways of reminding you that he was Dooku’s Padawan through and through and had survived an apprenticeship with that man.” 

Cody let out a low whistle. “Crazy?” 

“No,” Obi-Wan said, amused at the idea. A crazy Qui-Gon Jinn would have been easier to live with, perhaps. Certainly less broken teapots, maybe more meditation. More excitement, less arguments. Maybe a crazy Qui-Gon would never have gotten them into the mess they were in at the end? Maybe they would have talked at the end? The thought made his throat close and his eyes burn but he forced a smile for his friends and kept talking. That’s what he did, wasn’t it? He talked. He always talked, for everyone he talked. “Just very stubborn, pig-headed, and determined to do things his way. If you were in his way? It would not end well, for you. We argued quite often before he died and left a lot unsaid.” 

“You were close?” Cody asked, eyes narrowed. Busted. Cody could always spot his lies easiest. 

He hesitated, so used to denying the truth, but at this point what did it matter? “Rather like you two, actually,” he said with a sad smile. Rex had shifted closer, his head on Cody’s armored shoulder. How they managed to twist themselves together around the armor was beyond Obi-Wan, but it worked for them. Cody and Rex kept their relationship quiet due to chain of command; Cody’s position within the GAR meant a serious conflict of interest any time he issued orders to Rex. He had never had that with Qui-Gon. They had had to hide for so much of their time together with promises of later, later, later--except later had never come. Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the renewed ache in his eyes and the way his shoulders felt heavy. 

“Our vows were never finalized. We were waiting until I was Knighted but then he died.” An oversimplification, but then the truth of the matter was far more complicated than he wanted to discuss at the moment. Or, truly, ever. 

“No wonder it looked like you wanted to kill him,” Cody said. “If it is in an imposter, we’ll help you find the one behind this.” 

“What if it really is him?” Rex asked, leaning forward in curiosity. “I don’t understand the Force, but I listen when Skywalker teaches Ahsoka. Is it possible?” 

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, uneasy at the idea. If that really was Qui-Gon, if he really was alive after sixteen years? Something clawed inside his mind, his chest, his skin crawled and he had the urge to get up and pace. He did not move. He didn’t want to think about that. “Yes, the Force could do this. Although, in all honesty, I do not see why. There is no purpose behind bringing one Jedi, even Qui-Gon, back to life.” 

“Kindness?” Cody suggested. “I’ve heard you, sir, teaching the men to meditate. You spout off an amazing amount of bantha shit about the beauty and kindness of the Light of the Force. Maybe this is the Force giving you something back?” 

Obi-Wan snorted. “Yes, give me back Qui-Gon Jinn so that I may murder him again,” he said flatly. “It has often been my deepest wish these past decades, when it hasn’t been to scream at him.” He looked away from the surprised looks on his friends’ faces. They didn’t understand. They had a love that was pure, not flawed. When one spoke, the other listened, not froze the other out. Toward the end, Obi-Wan had often felt he was in an empty room screaming at the top of his lungs for all the good it did him. Aside from the rare times when Qui-Gon had surfaced from wherever he had vanished in the Force to offer rebukes and scathing comments that had left Obi-Wan feeling hollow inside, and then it had just been awful. And yet, that was the man he had loved. What had been _wrong_ with him? “I did say that we had been arguing when he died.” 

“And yet you love him,” Cody said, trying to hide a smile. 

Obi-Wan gave a little shrug and smiled. “I never said I had any _taste_.” 

= 

Qui-Gon walked sedately behind Anakin as the young man--and wasn't that a surprise?--chattered at him, explaining the different areas of the ship they were on. It was, to his unease and shock, Obi-Wan’s flagship and there were two other ships under his former Padawan’s immediate command. Considering that Mace had already informed him that Obi-Wan ran a branch of the _army_ the Jedi had, and that there were an entire fleet of ships, knowing that Obi-Wan only had three at his call was somewhat reassuring. Anakin had one, smaller and only the one since he was of a lower rank than Obi-Wan, and that was where his men were. 

Those men were all clones, which Mace had already explained to him. Qui-Gon had had time to be disturbed and get over _that_ information on the flight out to... Wherever they were. His head was spinning with all the information the Temple had thrown at him and what he had observed, and it didn't look like that would stop at any point in the near future. 

“Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin asked, looking at him in concern. 

They had stopped in front of a door. Ah, his new home, he supposed. 

“I'm sorry, Ani,” Qui-Gon said, smiling in apology at his distraction. “There have been a good many changes for me to contend with since, uh, awakening.” 

Anakin nodded, looking thoughtful. “I bet you expected Obi-Wan to be a little more open to the idea, too?” 

“A little,” Qui-Gon admitted. “He is different from before.” 

“Time changes people,” Anakin said and Qui-Gon had to smile at the knee-jerk reaction all Padawans had in defense of their Masters. “That doesn't excuse his behavior from before and I'll talk to him about it.” 

Qui-Gon kept his smile in place although he was disturbed at Anakin's comment. He would “speak” to Obi-Wan about his behavior? What right did a Padawan, former or not, have to confront their Master about their behavior? He needed to talk to someone, Mace he supposed as there weren’t many other options, about the relationship of these two men who he cared for. Had he erred, asking Obi-Wan to train Anakin? If he had, where had he gone wrong? 

“Here,” Anakin said, opening the room for him. “Did you have any questions I could maybe answer for you?” 

Most of the questions Qui-Gon had either revolved around how he came to be back amongst the living or about Obi-Wan. While Anakin could not answer questions about the first, maybe questions about the second…? 

“Is he happy?” Qui-Gon asked as they entered the empty cabin, sitting on the bed and gesturing Anakin toward the desk chair. “Obi-Wan.” 

Anakin sat, frowning. “I suppose so? It’s always been hard to figure him out but I guess he’s happy.” 

“Is he seeing anyone?” Qui-Gon asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be. While he wanted there to be a chance for them to be together once more now that he was, well, alive again, another part of him was horrified at the idea that Obi-Wan had been alone for over ten years. 

Anakin stared at him, clearly stunned at the idea, setting a rock forming in Qui-Gon’s stomach. “Seeing someone? _Him_? Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan isn’t the type to ‘see’ people.” A shadow crossed the young man’s face, dark and bitter. “He’s the perfect Jedi, after all. He’s a member of the Council, High General of System Army Gamma, and the famed ‘Negotiator’. He’s more likely to escape to the nearest library or science lab than find someone to try to date. Not like he even know what dating means.” He made a disgusted face. “I guess he has sex, if that's what you mean? Even then, that's a guess on my part. Getting close to another person? That's ‘attachment’ and you know how dangerous that is.” 

Qui-Gon arched a brow. “It is, is it?” 

Anakin huffed and got to his feet. “So Master Obi-Wan says,” he said. “I can’t count the amount of times I’ve had to meditate on the meaning of attachment.” 

Qui-Gon nodded slowly. “I see. Thank you, Ani, for letting me know. You have given me a lot to think about.” 

“I have?” Anakin asked, tilting his head to the side. “Why, did he used to? Date people, I mean.” 

Qui-Gon smiled and also got to his feet, pulling the other man into a hug. “I should meditate, if you don’t mind?” 

Anakin hugged him back, grinning. “Sure. I’m glad you’re back, Master Qui-Gon, even if no one else is.” 

Qui-Gon saw Anakin out, musing at the other’s comment. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? The Temple hadn’t known what to do with him so they had packed him off to his former Padawan, who wasn’t even convinced he was who he claimed to be. 

He needed to get Obi-Wan alone, to truly talk to him. Maybe then they could figure out why the Force had seen fit to bring him back to life? It could be about this blasted war--although to wait sixteen years did seem a little odd to him, and even he had enough humility to admit he was unlikely to be the solution when so many others weren’t. Yoda had looked worn, tired, but quietly joyful to see him at the Temple. 

It had been his Grandmaster’s idea that Qui-Gon go out to Obi-Wan. He hadn’t objected, of course, since he had been demanding information on his former Padawan since his boots had hit Temple grounds but this was not what he had expected. His fiery Padawan on the Council? Yes, Obi-Wan had been rather fond of rules toward the end, but it had been an attempt to curb Qui-Gon’s own impulses. At least, that’s what he had believed. Had he been wrong? It was an unsettling thought, that perhaps he had misjudged his heart-mate so much. 

Then again, so much had been going wrong between them for so long. As fast as they’d come together they had slowly begun to unravel. Naboo...those months leading up to it. Qui-Gon needed to corner the other man, soon, and explain. Maybe once the air was clear they could finish what was once started, figure out why he was back, and end this blasted war. The order of those events wasn’t important, except Qui-Gon was rather fond of making sure they finished what they started saying first. 

= 

Obi-Wan hummed an old tune softly, looking through the reports from the other battalions in System Army Gamma. They did their own requisitions but ultimately reported in to him, as well as the Council, and strategy needed to be decided. The other members of the Council, those less apt at strategy and who knew it, often sent their battle plans to him and Mace for an extra set of eyes and suggestions. He would look at those next, see if there was anything that stood out to him that would prove either beneficial or harmful to them as a whole and then make his suggestions. 

So far the reports for his portion of the Army looked promising. Not a drastic loss of life, some successful campaigns, one loss that would be a terrible setback if they did not work hard to mitigate it immediately, and a few ships that were headed for a nearby medical facility. He needed to consider the Intelligence reports next to see if there was some way to fix that loss, to cover the ground lost, or even to repair the damage done. 

The Force whispered approval and he paused, one finger tapping against the datapad. Yes, they could relaunch that campaign, come at it from a new angle with a different Jedi that had a better skill set, and it would be successful this time. The system would not be lost. 

His door swished open and he had to quash his annoyance. He was busy, dammit. 

“Master?” Anakin said, poking his head in. 

Obi-Wan sighed, setting the datapad down. He could make time for Anakin. He needed to make time for Anakin. “Come in, it’s okay. I was looking over some reports and figuring out deployment schedules.” 

“Thrilling,” Anakin said, voice bone dry as he came in and the door swished shut behind him. “Can we talk?” 

“Always,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing for his former Padawan to sit on the bed. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else to sit, after all, and from Anakin’s face it looked like it would be a long discussion. “I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.” If Obi-Wan was lucky, Anakin might confess about Padme. 

“It’s about Master Qui-Gon,” Anakin said as he sat. 

Obi-Wan hid a wince; he was not going to be lucky this time. “We do not know for sure that it is him, Anakin,” he said gently. 

“No, we do,” Anakin said with a frown, clearly upset. “How can you not know? You knew him for seven years, I knew him for less than a week, but I remember what he felt like in the Force. It’s him!” 

Obi-Wan looked at the datapads on the desk, moving them around idly. He hadn’t looked with the Force, not wanting to feel the lie, to have his heart smashed to pieces all over again. To see Qui-Gon was one thing, but to see him and then not feel that once-beloved Force-signature as well? He didn’t think he could take it. 

“It’s him, why are you being so difficult over this?” Anakin demanded. 

“You don’t understand,” Obi-Wan said slowly, trying to chose his words carefully. He wanted to avoid an argument with Anakin even if it seemed that the younger man wanted to do nothing _but_ fight. 

“Then explain it!” Anakin shouted, standing. Obi-Wan flinched, tamping down on the reaction a second too late. Anakin looked ashamed while still furious and hurt, but sat back down. “I know him dying hurt you. I remember you had problems when I first came to the Temple, that one of the Healers had to come to our rooms and do something, and then things were okay. But that doesn’t explain why you’re refusing to see what’s right in front of your face.” 

“It’s complicated,” Obi-Wan said, hating that he couldn’t tell Anakin the truth. Admitting such things to Anakin now? After every lesson in letting go of attachment, in turning away from emotion, from… 

They were still repairing their relationship, after the horrible bungle Obi-Wan had made of Anakin’s Padawan-years, and it took time to repair the damage. He wanted to build a true and lasting friendship that was similar to what he used to have with his age-mates and even Qui-Gon, before everything went pear-shaped. The truth wouldn’t free him, it would only burn him, and force his Padawan away from him. The trust Anakin had in him would be gone, and he would be right not to trust him. What had Obi-Wan ever done but lie to him about the truth? 

“Master Qui-Gon wouldn’t tell me ‘it’s complicated’ and that I ‘wouldn’t understand’,” Anakin said, getting his his feet. The old argument resurrected at last-- _if Master Jinn was my teacher and not you. Anyone but you._

Obi-Wan kept his eyes on the datapads rather than look at the other. Anakin was startling perceptive at always the moments that was least convenient. “I have a lot of work to do, Anakin.” 

“You should treat him better,” Anakin said. “People don’t just come back from the dead every day, you know. You don’t know how long he’s even here for.” Obi-Wan practically felt his heart stop beating at the implication. “It’s a gift from the Force, Master, you should enjoy it for however long you have it.” 

= 

The cabin they had stuck him in was bland. He was used to the diplomatic suites on planets reserved for the Jedi, or even the bunks on the ships the Order used to ferry the Jedi from mission to mission. Those rooms always had some level of basic comfort, even possessed some minor personality. Their hosts understood hospitality and the Order’s ships were properly kitted out for a Jedi’s needs--whatever they might be. The cabin on the starcruiser had neither of these things. 

It was metal; cold and unforgiving.There was something not quite right with his ability to connect to the Force. Qui-Gon knew his abilities lay with the Living Force, much as Obi-Wan’s resided with the Unifying Force, but there was nothing around him that spoke of _life_. People were one thing, but plants and simpler creatures with simpler needs were easier to feel in the Force for him. There didn’t seem to be any of those aboard the cruiser and it hurt on some instinctive level. 

He felt adrift, unmoored, unable to connect to the world around him. He had, ever since he had awakened on the metal flooring of the generator complex, nude and gasping for breath. He was of this world, but not. 

He found the comm he had been assigned at the Temple and scrolled through the numbers he had downloaded from a public unit, dumping the majority of the Temple’s Directory into the unit in his haste before they left. He found Mace’s comm unit designation and sat on the bed as he drew his cloak about himself, sending it a quick ping query and waiting. 

The query settled into a proper call as Mace answered, looking far too smug and amused for Qui-Gon’s liking. “Mace,” he greeted. 

“That was fast,” Mace said, smug. “I’m not picking you up yet. Fix whatever you broke.” 

“I haven’t broken anything!” Qui-Gon protested. At least, he didn’t think he had. One would have to actually talk to someone else to actually break something. 

“Mmhm,” Mace hummed, sounding utterly convinced. “Then why are you talking to me and not making nice with your former Padawan?” 

“Because I have concerns,” Qui-Gon said, slouching back against the cold wall of his bed. “What can you tell me about Obi-Wan and Anakin’s relationship?” 

Mace leaned back in the chair he was sitting in and looked grim. “You had to ask the easy question, didn’t you?” 

“Anakin said something that,” Qui-Gon paused, “disturbed me. Before I rush through any observations, I would like to know the situation.” 

Mace rolled his eyes. “You, Qui-Gon Jinn, being cautious? What is the galaxy coming to?” 

“Mace,” Qui-Gon growled. 

The younger man waved a hand. “Peace.” He was studying Qui-Gon through the comm, a slight frown on his face. “He wasn’t ready to be Knighted, you do know that, right?” 

Qui-Gon looked away, uncomfortable with such a truth. The Trials were known to kill Padawans who were unprepared. If Obi-Wan was a Master now then he had been Knighted, which meant the Council had used Naboo as his Trial. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“The Council felt it was best, for the time being, to keep an eye on him,” Mace said, glancing down. “Especially after he so...vehemently told Yoda he was taking a Padawan immediately after being Knighted. You had a great deal of influence on him, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan is quite headstrong and he has a mouth on him, but it’s tempered by a good heart and kindness.” 

“It was all his doing,” Qui-Gon said, throat tight. “None of that was me.” 

Mace chuckled, “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I lost count of the number of times he’d slyly insinuate that if it would be better to raise Anakin outside the Temple then he would do so. There were missions where a normally white-tunic wearing Padawan Skywalker would return smeared head-to-toe in grease, and thus he was granted the exception to wear darker colors out of practicality. Your boy used every diplomatic trick he ever learned with you on us and he did so with such cunning and guile that you never knew you were being worked until hours later.” 

Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully. That did not sound like the Code-adhering Padawan he had left behind. 

“He was protecting Skywalker, of course,” Mace continued with a flick of his fingers. “Not that he’ll ever see it that way. They clashed, often. Obi-Wan did the best he could, trying to teach him to be a Jedi the way a Jedi would be taught. Skywalker’s teachers disliked him, for the majority, and he has few friends among us.” 

Qui-Gon frowned. “He and Obi-Wan are quite similar, Mace. They--” 

“Would have been good brothers,” Mace said firmly. “As teacher and student? No. I admit, in hindsight, having the Council breathing down their necks all the time was perhaps not the smartest idea we've ever had but that’s not something we can fix now. They’ve only started having a decent relationship since the war broke out. The Council Knighted Skywalker when Obi-Wan was believed killed in action about three years ago and he’s proved to be a good Jedi.” 

“Why are they still paired together?” Qui-Gon asked, tucking that bit of knowledge away. Killed in action? He could have lost Obi-Wan before he had ever regained him? “You almost never see a master and apprentice together once one has been Knighted.” 

Mace shrugged, looking at him with a wry smile. “Do I need to tell you about attachment? Even before Obi-Wan was on the Council he was in charge of the majority of the army. He took control of Skywalker and Skywalker _listened_. I don’t need to tell you how important that is in a war.” 

Qui-Gon slumped in his seat and rubbed the old break in his nose. “I remember. So, Anakin is a loose cannon who barely listens to anyone except Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan is better at being subversive than he was when he was my Padawan only now he’s on the Council, and the galaxy is burning to the ground. Have I missed anything?” 

Mace looked equal parts delighted and smug. “I know something you don’t know.”  


Qui-Gon stared at him. “Are you still in the creche?” 

Mace’s smile widened. “Why don’t you go find that former Padawan of yours, eh? I’m sure you’ll feel better if you talk to him.” 

Qui-Gon frowned. “What do you--” 

Mace disconnected the comm and Qui-Gon was left staring at the holo-disc in confusion. What in the Force’s name? 

= 

“I don’t think now’s the time,” Cody said, nudging Rex away. It wouldn’t do to be too obvious, not on the bridge like they were, even if no one was paying attention to them and it would simply look like Rex was pestering him about something on the datapad he had in his hand. 

“If not now then when?” Rex demanded, keeping his voice quiet as he crowded back in against his _riduur_. He gestured at the General with the datapad, trying to make the prop more obvious, while also being a pain in Cody’s _shebs_. “You see it, clear as stars. General’s tense.” 

Cody yanked the datapad away from his _di’kut_. He did see it, not that it needed to be pointed out. The General looked too perfect, too put together; he only over compensated in his appearance when he was stressed to a breaking point and needed a room with a door that locked and a cup of tea. Or a shot of whiskey. “Rex,” he said. “He might have been receptive before, but that was _before_. He was lonely and hurting, this is different.” 

“He’s still lonely and hurting, Cody. Probably even more so. We should tell him we would be more than happy to make before a permanent thing,” Rex said. “At least give him the choice.” 

Cody might have agreed, even as he watched his General speak to the other brothers on the bridge as he pretended to look over the datapad, but it was more complicated than Rex was making it seem. He could imagine being in his General’s boots--Rex dying on him only to come back years later. He’d be hurt and furious with his _riduur_ , unsure of how to move forward, if they even _could_ move forward. He would want to give it a shot, no matter what, because it was Rex and Cody would always love Rex. 

As much as his General was in pain over his own _riduur_ returning, he still cared. Sure, he might say he wanted to kill him or scream at him, but you didn’t have that strong of a reaction if you didn’t care. 

“Maybe,” Cody said, handing the datapad back and gripping Rex’s fingers as he did so. “I’ll speak to him after last meal, fair?” 

“Fair,” Rex said, the slightest curl to his lips. 

= 

Obi-Wan hesitated outside the door of the cabin where Anakin had stashed the possible imposter and sighed, running a hand through his hair, before walking off. No, he couldn’t do this. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind, not that he thought he ever would be, but now was definitely not the time. He had reports to sign and battles to plan. 

“Obi-Wan?” a voice called. 

He stopped walking and looked up toward the ceiling of the corridor, taking a deep breath before turning around. Qui-Gon, if it was actually him, was standing half-outside his door and frowning with a pinched, serious-searching look on his face. It was an expression Obi-Wan remembered all too well. 

“Yes?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his back and not coming any closer than he had to. Distance was his ally in this battle. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Qui-Gon said, voice just this side of hesitant. No, things were not going the way he had intended and Obi-Wan was not handing him the power he wanted. He knew what those narrowed blue eyes meant, down to the exact wrinkle, the thinning of the lips. He had learned, hadn’t he, at the man’s side as he turned such looks on diplomats and the Council time and time again with different inflections and quirks--even if it all meant the same thing in the end. Qui-Gon Jinn was weighing you and finding you wanting. 

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Obi-Wan said, squaring his shoulders slightly. 

He was not going to be found wanting ever again. He had been at twelve and again at twenty. His heart could not take a third blow. Better to put an end to it now, to refuse to meet those eyes and see the weight of that gaze, the twitch and purse of the lips, the twitch of the nose that would indicate just how displeased Qui-Gon was with everything. He was a man grown, for the Force’s sake, respected and in such high demand that he barely slept. He did not need this supposed man’s approval, or his love, or any of the millions of things he had wanted so desperately throughout the years and knew with a certainty now that he would never receive. 

He arched a brow as Qui-Gon opened his mouth, “No, there isn’t anything to talk about. Either you are in fact Qui-Gon Jinn and sixteen years have passed, in which case nothing you have to say matters anymore, or you are not him and therefore absolutely nothing you have to say would have any bearing on the situation at hand.” He gave the stunned man a stiff half-bow and turned on his heel. He had been a fool for coming down here in the first place/ 

“Water,” Qui-Gon said quietly. 

Obi-Wan froze, his heart almost ceasing to beat in his chest. No, impossible, he couldn’t have heard that right. Maybe the man was thirsty and was parched and he was asking for water, there was no possible way, it wasn’t even conceivable that he could-- 

But what it is was? That--no. No one else knew. That was _theirs_ and theirs alone! His eyes stung like needles and ice and everything painful and he wanted to reach up and dig the heels of his palms into them but he stayed perfectly still. Was it possible? Had the Force granted him his deepest wish, even if it was decades too late? He was not the Padawan Qui-Gon had left behind, he was a Master of the High Council, he was...he was so much and yet so little and all of that, all of it, meant nothing when it came to the possibility, the _actuality_ , of this being Qui-Gon Jinn. His other-half. The man he would have done anything for, once upon a time. 

Time still stood, what he had said just seconds, moments, mere instances ago--and yet he did not want to be found wanting. Ever. The fact that now this was, without a shadow of a doubt, Qui-Gon, _his_ Qui-Gon, made the words and feelings even more important, made the devastation all the more real. 

“You have forgotten how to be fire,” Qui-Gon said, “and left only water behind. I never meant for you to extinguish your flame, love, only to temper yourself and find balance.” 

Obi-Wan forced himself to move, jaw clenched, much as he remembered Qui-Gon doing to him so many times at twelve, at twenty--those final few months of their time together when Obi-Wan wanted them to _talk_ and Qui-Gon did nothing but leave. That’s what he was good at, wasn’t it? Qui-Gon Jinn, the judge and the leaver. Let the insufferable man have a taste of his own medicine for a change and know how it felt to have someone walk away from him. 

= 

There was a knock on his door and Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes. Dammit. He had barely made it back to his room before the memories had overpowered him, seemingly forcing him to face them all at once, both the good and bad, even as the bad outweighed the good. He hadn’t been able to force them away, had had no choice but to sit there and remember each slight, each failure, each moment between him and Qui-Gon where they had tried so hard to reach other and it had broken down, each moment his Master had walked away from him. 

Attachment was dangerous. It would cut at you, even after the object of the attachment was gone from this world. The memory of the attachment was even worse, cutting years and years later like grit in a wound that would never actually heal. He hated it as much as he missed it because despite all the pain it caused it was still better than not having it at all. He still wasn’t sure if he would rather have at least had their romance, and the damage they had done to each other, or not. 

The knock sounded again and he rubbed at his aching eyes, hoping he looked presentable enough, even for this late hour. Granted, whoever was coming to him now got what they deserved. He knew he was in demand but he deserved at least a little time to himself, didn’t he? He was almost surprised to see Cody, but then the Force seemed to like shoving all his attachments in his face at once, didn’t it? And he was, sadly, utterly attached to his Commander. Against his better judgement, and having fought it, he was charmed and thrilled with the other man and valued him as much as he trusted him. 

“Gen--Obi-Wan?” Cody asked, looking concerned. “Are you all right?” 

With the subtle shift from subordinate to friend, Obi-Wan let Cody into his room. “No,” he said, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. That’s what he got for choking back emotions, he supposed. He gestured for Cody to sit, he didn’t care where, and he curled back up on his nest of a bed. He really should remember to make the blasted thing in the mornings. “I’m an idiot. I went to talk to Qui-Gon and decided too late that it was a bad idea.” 

“So it is him?” Cody asked, sitting next to him. 

Obi-Wan choked back a laugh. “It’s him,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “No one else knew that stupid phrase.” 

Cody laid a hand on Obi-Wan’s back, gently rubbing. “What phrase?” 

“It started as a meditation phrase when I was young and had just became his Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing around the memories. “‘More water, less fire’, he’d say. Over time he’d just say ‘water’, with this chiding look, and depending on the situation or my mood, I’d snipe back ‘fire’ at him. It became a joke, and Force, how he used to despair over my lack of serenity.” 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody said, turning to press a kiss against the side of his head. 

“He told me he never wanted my fire to be extinguished, merely balanced,” Obi-Wan said tiredly, rubbing at his face with his sleeve. “Will I ever stop disappointing him? First I have too much fire and now not enough.” 

“He must be blind, that's the only answer. You have plenty of ‘fire’, Obi-Wan,” Cody said, wrapping his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Sometimes a little too much for all of our tastes.” His tone was teasing. “It might be easier for those of us trying to keep you alive if you were a little calmer sometimes.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Obi-Wan laughed and rubbed at his eyes. “When he died, I couldn’t remember how to feel. Fire, water, none of it mattered. I felt dead, like it was me Maul had killed me down there and my body was too stupid to figure it out. I kept going because of Anakin, because no one else would train him, and because Qui-Gon made me promise to train him.” 

Cody tried to say something but Obi-Wan shook his head. He didn’t know what he wanted right now, but Obi-Wan knew he didn’t want kind words. He wanted… he wanted to _scream_ , to rage, to find some way of making his life make sense again. He was breaking, he knew that, he just didn’t know how much more he could take before he crumbled. 

He felt Cody ease them back onto the bed, arms around him, and he took the offered comfort. He pressed his face into the other’s shoulder and fought back the tears as he always did, silent, wishing not for the first time that his life had turned out so much different than it currently was. 

= 

Before Cody left the next morning they had finalized the personnel request--five hundred and twenty new souls to join the 7th Sky Corps alone. Minimal casualties, barely a drop in the bucket in comparison to the nearly three million men Obi-Wan had under his direct command, but they hurt all the same. Put together it was more than two companies, and more than that? These were men with brothers who were mourning them, lights in the Force that had gone out and made the Galaxy just that much darker. 

He looked through the request, noting what specialities they needed, which companies and legions and regiments had holes. It would take time, of course, to have those men sent to them. Longer, to properly instruct them in the ways both Cody and Obi-Wan ran things, and then how each of their senior, regimental, and battalion commanders ran things. The clones were such smart men, adaptable, but this war moved fast--when it wasn’t hurry up and wait. 

He scrolled through the comm numbers in his unit and hit Mace’s, waiting for it to connect. 

“It’s _early_ ,” Mace greeted him, looking tired and rumpled. He appeared, honestly, as if he were still in bed. 

“A Jedi, complaining about the early hour? Be careful or I’ll tell Yoda on you,” Obi-Wan teased. 

“You’re in a fine mood,” Mace said, the hologram flickering as he moved too fast for the camera to record and then the image stabilized; Mace was settling into a seat at his desk. “I take it you’re going to yell at me?” 

“Business first,” Obi-Wan said, transmitting his request and the final written report on the battle. “7th Sky needs men, Mace. If you could forward the request onto Shaak, I would appreciate her suggestions.” 

“You trust her more than me,” Mace accused, eyebrow arched. 

“Alpha is on Kamino with her and she sent me Cody,” Obi-Wan said, smug. “Stole him right away from you and gave me the best Commander in the GAR.” 

“You’re biased,” Mace said. “Ponds is--” 

“Bias!” Obi-Wan accused with a laugh. “Who was it that threatened to fight me for Cody when the transfer first went through?” 

Mace grinned. “Yes, Shaak knows what she is doing when it comes to pairing the Commanders to the Jedi. I will let her decide who to send your way.” 

Obi-Wan settled back in his own chair, trying not to feel smug or victorious. It was not the Jedi way. It was, however, the way he and Mace were with each other in their friendship--an odd state of one upmanship that worked for them. “Now that that issue is settled, we have another to discuss.” 

“Qui-Gon?” Mace guessed, having moved out of range of the comm. Obi-Wan could hear the sounds of Mace making tea and, while that sounded like a fabulous idea, this was not the time for that. He would never get to sleep if he made himself a cup. 

“The Council,” Obi-Wan corrected, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes. “I am on the Council and yet I was excluded from all discussions about Qui-Gon. I didn’t even know about the situation until he showed up on my cruiser. You can’t tell me that wasn’t deliberate.” 

“It was completely deliberate,” Mace said, sitting back down at the desk. “It was also not my call.” 

Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched. “Was it put to a vote?” he asked, trying to stay civil. 

“No,” Mace said, taking a sip of his tea. He made a face; neither of them liked the way tea tasted when made in space or the faster ways it had to be made these days. A cup of tea was meant to be enjoyed, not flash brewed and guzzled. 

“Was a reason given as to why I was being kept out of it or was it just, I don’t know? _Decided_.” 

Mace set his cup down. “Obi-Wan, don’t do this to yourself,” he said, a certain sort of kindness to his voice. 

“Do what to myself?” Obi-Wan asked, forcing himself to uncross his arms. He would not let himself throw a snit. “See treachery where there obviously is some? I have always done exactly what the Council has asked, in all matters, even when I have drastically disagreed. All of you asked me to join, Mace, and I agreed despite the strains it has put on several personal relationships and the way it has compromised much of my own intelligence network. Now I find out that there is at least one session I have been barred from. Is it not logical to wonder how many other meetings I haven’t been there for?” 

Mace was quiet and Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. There were others, then, that he had not been there for. He tried not to let his mind calculate just how many it possibly could be--an almost impossible feat--and forced himself to focus. 

“Mace, a Councilor is expected to be at every session, even when they know they will have to go on record as having to recuse themselves. This is why we have gone to such extremes to schedule sessions and have holographs. You’ve even made me fly back to Coruscant for meetings when it simply wasn’t possible to have it any other way.” 

“How is Qui-Gon settling in?” Mace asked. 

“You utter bastard,” Obi-Wan whispered, heat flaring along his spine and in his gut. He was too well trained to show it but he felt fury. He bundled it up and released it into the Force, knowing better than to let it poison him in these dark times when it would be all too easy to let it consume him. He looked away, tapping his fingers slowly on the desk to release his tension. “He’s fine, I suppose. You’ll be happy to know that I agree he’s Qui-Gon Jinn.” 

Mace was quiet for a second, probably drinking his tea. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, to be honest. The Force bringing back a dead man? It’s not entirely unheard of but it doesn’t always mean good things.” 

Obi-Wan sighed. “To be honest, Mace? The airlock is looking very tempting right now.” Between Anakin, Qui-Gon, the war, and now the Council? He didn’t know how much more he could take before he snapped. And if he snapped, he was probably going to take a lot of good men down with him. One could only hope when the time came Dooku, or preferrably Grievous, was nearby to be caught in the blast radius. 

“Unfortunately,” Mace said, “we need you too much to let you do that. Don’t make me call up Sawbones and Cody.” 

Obi-Wan glared at him. “I have Ponds’ comm number too, you know. I can get even with you even from the front lines.” 

Mace smirked. “Try it, Kenobi.” 

= 

The next few days seemed to fall into a pattern of sorts and it was not one that Obi-Wan found to his liking. Anakin would try to corner him to speak on Qui-Gon’s behalf while also being strangely critical, Rex and Cody would alternate between supportive and protective while being oddly attentive in a way that Obi-Wan found almost stifling, and Qui-Gon tried to corner him in the most outlandish ways to try to speak to him. 

Suffice to say that when an opportunity arose to survey a new planet that might have been overlooked by the Separatists, he jumped at the chance. 

“Sir,” Cody said, eyes narrowed. 

“You, of course, will be staying here,” Obi-Wan said calmly, not looking up from the datapad. He could feel Cody’s outrage coloring the Force and he refused to be swayed by it. “This is a simple mission, Cody, nothing that requires your considerable skills.” 

“By the same argument, sir, it doesn’t require yours either,” Cody argued softly, making sure not to be overheard. It wouldn’t do for the rank and file to hear their commanding officers arguing amongst themselves. 

Obi-Wan set the datapad aside and hooked his arm through Cody’s, forcing his Commander to walk with him. “Cody, Ghost Company can handle one tiny, uninhabited planet with me. This period of rest we have won’t last forever so take advantage of it. We won’t be able to keep the 501st with us for much longer so enjoy the time with Rex while you can.” 

Cody sighed as they walked. “Sir,” he protested. 

“Is that the only word you know?” Obi-Wan teased, smiling. He let out a surprised ‘meep’ as Cody used his arm as leverage and dragged him into an unoccupied supply room. 

“Do not sass me when it’s your safety at stake, Obi-Wan,” Cody said, shoving him gently against the wall. “You know the men don’t like it when you’re hurt, and I would never forgive myself if something happened because I wasn’t there to watch your back.” 

Obi-Wan leaned forward to kiss Cody’s cheek. “You know Ghost, Cody. They’re all good men. They will look after me. I can also look after myself, you know.” 

“No, you can’t,” Cody said with a look, stepping back. That previous night hung between them, but so did all their previous engagements and long nights in medical with Cody standing silent sentry. “You attract trouble worse than a Shiny attracts blaster bolts.” 

“Now that’s not fair,” Obi-Wan protested. “I am not nearly as bad as they are.” 

Cody shook his head, giving him a look Obi-Wan was not quite sure how to interpret. “I’ll get Rex to lay off,” he said after a moment, adjusting his vambrace absently. “You can tell us when it’s too much, you know. We’re friends, Obi-Wan, all else aside.” 

Obi-Wan blinked at him, throat feeling suddenly tight. “It is too much,” he whispered. “Between Anakin, Qui-Gon, and the two of you? I feel hunted. I know you mean well, and I appreciate and care for you both so very much, and any other time it would be welcome, but right now I need to breathe. Please let me breathe.” 

Cody nodded. “I’ll make sure Ghost is kitted up to the normal levels, then.” He gave Obi-Wan a wry look, lips twitching against a smile. “At least I know Boil and Waxer know how to watch your back.” 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as he tried to smile, “Now who’s sassing who, Commander?” 

Cody smirked at him. 

= 

“Where is Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked a passing scarred clone in yellow, having searched the cruiser to no end for the past two hours. 

His abilities in the Force were touch-and-go and, he was dismayed to find that Obi-Wan felt different, _was_ different, than he remembered. There was something muted, hidden, about his former Padawan that he wasn’t sure he liked and he ached to return Obi-Wan to the burning bright spot in the Force he had always been. His Padawan’s brightness had long been a source of comfort to him, pulling him away from the Dark and being a welcomed shelter when the Order and the Senate threatened to drive him to insanity. Now, however, it seemed that Obi-Wan had been devoured by those same corrupt beings--not just on a Council that thought so highly of itself that felt it was above everything, even the Order’s own rules, but also held in painfully high esteem by the Senate. 

He had looked up Obi-Wan, resentful that he had had to resort to doing so when he should have been given such information freely from the source if not other Jedi around him, and found several things that troubled him. Yes, he had died, but what had the Order done to his Padawan? At what point had Obi-Wan just given up and let them Council run his life? That was it, wasn’t it--that was what had happened. Qui-Gon had died and Obi-Wan had been overwhelmed with everything that had happened and, like the vicious vultures they were, the Council had pounced, tying their strings to the emotionally compromised and physically hurt Padawan Qui-Gon had left behind. 

He remembered what Mace had said--there was regret (on Mace’s behalf, at least) and the thought they should have done things differently--but the matter remained. How could he fix things with Obi-Wan, or even begin to talk to his former Padawan, if he couldn’t understand what had caused him to change? Although, the more he learned the more he burned to take a lightsaber to anyone who had dared harm Obi-Wan. 

And yet now, as he searched for his wayward apprentice, he could not find him to pin him down and make him answer some very simple questions. He pushed those frustrations to the Force, whether he could touch it or not, and released them. He could agonize and obsess over the differences later. For now, he had a possible mouse in his clutches who could grant him answers if he played his cards right. 

The clone snorted, shaking his head. “Sticking his nose into trouble, probably,” he said. “There’s a planet nearby that no one has any data on so the General decided he was the best candidate to go play explorer.” 

Qui-Gon smiled fondly, remembering far too many times where Obi-Wan leapt before he looked. “He never did do well sitting still.” 

“That is an understatement,” the clone muttered. 

“I am Qui-Gon Jinn but I do not know who you are,” Qui-Gon said. “There are an awful lot of you and I am still trying to figure the best way to remember all of you and my way around.” 

“Cody,” the clone said, face blank. “Marshal Commander of the 7th Sky Corps. Pardon me if this seems rude, but why don’t you just use the Force? The General said it was the easiest way to tell the Shinies apart--” 

“Shinies?” Qui-Gon asked, frowning. 

“Brothers who haven’t decorated their armor, changed their hair, or gotten any tattoos,” the Marshal Commander said. “They’re fresh from Kamino, regulation model.” 

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said with a considering hum. “As to why I don’t use the Force, I cannot. My grasp on it is very shaky right now and it makes using it like trying to hold water in your hands for too long. It simply slips through.” 

The Marshal Commander arched an unimpressed brow. “Right. You do remember who my General is?” 

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Your bullshit is exactly the same,” the Marshal Commander said, shaking his head. “If he learned it from you, no one will thank you, but if you learned it from him, there will be plenty of laughter.” 

“I am almost positive the influence was mutual,” Qui-Gon said, trying not to laugh. They did both have a tendency of sharing their worst traits with each other, and their best. “Do you know when Obi-Wan will return?” 

The Marshal Commander watched him in a way that reminded Qui-Gon of both Obi-Wan and a predator and he knew, with a certainty, that he was being evaluated. For what purpose, or against what criteria, he wished he knew, but the clone seemed to make up his mind about something. 

“The General likes to take his time and be thorough,” the Marshal Commander said. “He also tends to attract trouble. He’ll be back when he gets back, or we’ll go down there and rescue him.” 

Qui-Gon could almost hear the way the Marshal Commander wanted to call Obi-Wan a “dumbass” but refrained. It seemed his Padawan had gone and found himself the perfect match to his cheek in this clone. They were friends, from what Qui-Gon had observed, and it was quite possible that he might need this man on his side if he was to win Obi-Wan’s trust again. If he was honest with himself, and he had to be in this situation, he could use all the allies he could get. Even if the idea was not to his liking. 

“Marshal Commander, might I ask you for a favor?” Qui-Gon asked, clasping his arms behind his back. 

“Kriff, the two of you even move and talk the same,” the Marshal Commander said, sounding pained. “What?” 

“It has been quite some time since I’ve been,” Qui-Gon hesitated over the proper words, “alive, I suppose is the right word. Times, and people, have changed, and I find myself utterly unsure of how to start finding my place in all this.” 

The Marshal Commander crossed his arms. “And what do you need from me?” 

“Your assistance,” Qui-Gon said simply. “Insights into the current state of the Galaxy, from whichever position you feel I should consider it. I understand that we are at war, but I do not quite understand how it came to be.” 

“Count Dooku decided to build himself an army and seduced, or coerced, systems into following him,” the Marshal Commander said, matching Qui-Gon’s own easy tone. 

Qui-Gon choked back a laugh. Oh, he liked this one. “Well, he always did like control,” he said, shaking his head. The Marshal Commander gave a start. “Ah, I suppose Obi-Wan neglected to mention that Dooku was my Master, which makes him part of our lineage. They never had much contact and what little contact they did have in the past was rather, er, how should we say...tetchy.” 

“No, I knew about Dooku. Define ‘tetchy’?” The Marshal Commander asked with a frown. 

Qui-Gon hide a smile behind his hand. “Obi-Wan did spike Dooku’s tea with one of the spiciest peppers in our kitchen after a rather nasty comment when he was younger. Petty, perhaps, but rightfully earned.” 

“Peppers?” The Marshal Commander asked, looking as if every holiday had come early. 

“Mm,” Qui-Gon said, remembering the incident fondly. “I’m not quite sure what changed but Obi-Wan was a bit of a spitfire when he was younger, willful and fiery.” 

“How about less of a favor and more of an exchange?” The Marshal Commander said, grinning with far too many teeth. “I help you understand whatever it is you think you need to understand, and you tell me all the stories you can remember about my General from when he was just a cadet.” 

Qui-Gon smiled and held out his hand. “I think that would be a fair bargain.” An ally, one whom Obi-Wan seemed to trust implicitly? He could work with this. Yes, this would certainly work to his advantage. 

= 

It didn’t take long to find out _why_ the planet was so sparsely inhabited, though it was almost amusing to Obi-Wan the series of events that led them to this conclusion. The key word, of course, was sparsely inhabited and not--as they were led to believe--uninhabited. This was a very important distinction as they had been mostly shot out of the sky and been on the run since landing. 

“Sir,” Boil said, tugging his helmet off, “the next time you want to hide from everyone? Please leave us out of it.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Waxer laughed, walking past. “This is kind of fun!” 

Boil’s lips thinned and he chucked his helmet at his brother and started shouting at him in Mando’a. Waxer snickered and handed the helmet back with an elaborate bow he must have seen Obi-Wan do at some point. Boil snatched his helmet back with a low growl. 

Obi-Wan grinned. “It is rather fun, Boil.” 

“Which part?” he asked, slamming his helmet back onto his head. “The part where we have no comms? Oh, or how about the part where most of our supplies went up with the ships? You know, while all that is really fantastic and makes this my favorite assignment yet, General? My personal favorite is where the planet _is trying to kill us_!” 

“Who has the hooch?” Obi-Wan called out to the rest of the men, most of who were laughing at Boil’s outrage. “I think Boil needs to calm down!” 

“General,” Boil sighed. 

“No hooch on this trip,” Crys said. “Commander’s orders.” 

“Oh, honestly,” Obi-Wan sighed; Cody was overreacting. “What, does he think Grievous is lurking about somewhere down here and we are all going to die without him to save the proverbial day?” 

“The plants did try to eat us, sir,” Oddball said, petting his blaster rifle. “At this point I’d say anything is possible.” 

“Yes, a plant,” Obi-Wan drawled, barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes as others howled with laughter. “How utterly terrifying.” 

“It could be worse,” Longshot said, hefting his rifle. “It really could be Grievous down here.” 

Obi-Wan grinned. “See? That’s the spirit! Let’s set up some guard watches and get some shut eye before continuing on. This fog is rendering our sensors useless so we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.” 

“And what’s that?” Boil asked. 

“With our eyes, my dear sir,” Obi-Wan said cheerfully. 

“You are a very bad man, General,” Boil said as the others laughed. 

“I do try,” Obi-Wan said, sweeping Boil a Senate-perfect bow. 

= 

Qui-Gon took a careful sip of the alcohol the Marshal Commander--“for kriff’s sake, call me Cody”--had produced from somewhere and mulled over the information provided. It was a lot more complete than the brief overview Mace had given him at the Temple and it left him unsettled. This is what Obi-Wan had gotten himself involved with? 

“Jedi were not made for war,” Qui-Gon said. 

“Some are good at it, some aren’t,” Cody said. “Some have snapped and started killing everything they see, regardless of what side they’re on, and others have started defecting to Dooku’s side.” 

“They believe the Republic is beyond saving,” Qui-Gon said with a slow nod. “Understandable.” 

Cody’s eyes narrowed. “The Republic--” 

“It is a corrupt institution,” Qui-Gon interrupted. “It has been for decades. This war is not the answer. War is merely feeding the corrupt in the Senate and aiding those who are corrupt on the Confederacy side, most likely. The only thing war is good for is lining the pockets of the rich and letting innocents suffer needlessly.” 

Cody looked incredibly unhappy, not that Qui-Gon could blame him. It was never comfortable or joyful to come to terms with the fact that everything you believed in was based on lies and fiction. “You don’t think this war can be won.” 

“Wars are not won,” Qui-Gon said. “You only have a side that comes out slightly less scathed than the other. Jedi are peacekeepers. We do fight, often as a last resort when all other options have been exhausted, but at this grand of a scale? I wonder if it truly is the last option.” 

“We’ll have to disagree,” Cody said, a touch diplomatically. He was a good match for Obi-Wan, or had learned well from him. Qui-Gon was learning, in bits and pieces, about the relationship the two men had--not that the Commander knew what he was revealing. “Let’s change the topic. You asked about ways to tell the clones apart.” 

Qui-Gon nodded, taking another sip of the alcohol. “I did.” 

“Considering the way General Windu, uh, ordered General Kenobi to teach you the current goings on,” Cody started. 

“He’d have to spend more than a minute in my company for that to happen,” Qui-Gon pointed out. 

“If my spouse came back from the dead sixteen years later after some of the _osik_ he told us about, I’d either shove him out the airlock or ignore him too,” the Commander pointed out. “Give him time.” 

Qui-Gon sat back in his chair, at a loss for words, as he began to reevaluate Obi-Wan and his Commander’s relationship. For all that he had observed, he had not exactly guessed the true depth of their friendship, not if Obi-Wan had told the clone about them. Though, what _exactly_ he knew was still a subject of debate. He and Obi-Wan had kept their relationship quiet, neither telling anyone so as not to risk either of their positions or Obi-Wan’s path to Knighthood...but Qui-Gon supposed with his death it didn’t exactly matter. Obi-Wan had been Knighted and he was dead; their secret hurt no one by being told. Still, his Obi-Wan was private and hated people in his business, spinning tales on the spot about events that never happened to misdirect and confound people who tried to pry. Why was this clone different? 

“We never finalized anything,” Qui-Gon said finally, running his fingers along the rim of the glass. 

“Does it change anything?” Cody asked. 

Qui-Gon looked at the clone, the deep scar on his face, and paused. He had no illusions that whatever he and the Commander discussed would not eventually be repeated to Obi-Wan, so his words would have to be calculated. The truth, or a measure of it, could not hurt and might even bring Obi-Wan closer to coming to him on his own. “Maybe. That last year, those last few months, we weren’t functioning as the team we had been for years. Something was off between us and instead of requesting the time off to find out why, I let the Council send us where we were needed. There were other Jedi who could have taken those missions that would have garnered similar results, perhaps not as fast, but I kept putting it off and the rift kept growing. By the time Naboo came along, we were barely speaking and whenever we did speak, the words were harsh.” 

“As a brother of mine likes to say,” Cody said, drinking from his own glass, “you done karked up. Whenever the two of you get around to clearing the air? I know my General well enough to know that, while not cruel, he’s still going to enjoy raking you over the coals for whatever happened between you. He’s had a long time to obsess over those memories.” 

Qui-Gon nodded. That did sound like the Obi-Wan he remembered--not cruel but still delighting in someone’s just desserts. “He’s within his right.” 

“As I was saying,” Cody said, lips quirking in amusement, “you’re attached to 7th Sky Corps, if not the whole of System Army Gamma, for the foreseeable future. These sheets aren’t complete but I can work up a more complete chart with armor art, the rest of our more obvious markings and our names, so you can at least figure out who we are. I can’t help you with the Shinies, but we’re putting together similar intel on the 104th, other Corps, Legions, and Companies we work with often. I’ll get Captain Rex to help with the 501st, although they're not part of the Sky Corps. They fall into one of the other three Corps General Kenobi oversees.” 

“The 501st is Anakin’s Legion?” Qui-Gon asked. 

Cody nodded and pushed over a few sheets of flimsis he’d been doodling on, and a map. The map was what Cody pointed to first. “The 104th is General Plo Koon’s primary Battalion, but he also commands System Armies Delta. General Kenobi runs the System Armies Gamma. There’s a System Army for each member of the Jedi Council, which has two sector armies each. That galaxy is divided into twenty sectors, see?” Qui-Gon nodded. “Each sector army has around one million, forty-four hundred thousand men. A system army is two million and eighty-eight hundred thousand men.” 

“So many clones,” Qui-Gon said, brushing his fingers over the map and shaking his head. As Jedi, they knew how to lead small numbers of men--guards of a planet’s defenses mainly and if needed--but upwards of thirty-four million men? The Jedi were not meant for this. And at the center of it all, his Obi-Wan, doing such great and terrible things. What a burden it must be on him. What toll must it be taking? “I trained him too well.” 

“If by ‘trained him too well’ you mean you’re the reason he doesn’t sleep or eat enough, ducks out on medical checks constantly, and is insistent on driving all of us into an early grave with worrying? Then I’m letting Sawbones and Kix loose on you and watching from a safe distance,” Cody said, leaning back in his seat. “He’s a kriffing menace.” 

Qui-Gon snorted, looking through the flimsi to find Sawbones and Kix. They were both medical officers--Sawbones for the 212th and Kix for the 501st, with notes that they oversaw their specific Generals--no wonder Obi-Wan didn’t get along with those particular clones. The sheets looked to be for clones Cody could identify immediately and recall without issue--a large amount and mostly higher ranked clones, but they also hadn’t been sitting together for very long. For so many men, the project would take quite some time. 

“He came to me that way. The first time we were on a mission together he was twelve, maybe thirteen and offering to blow himself up so I might survive and save others. I was being a bantha’s ass and he reminded me what it was that Jedi were supposed to be, so I took him as my Padawan. Still, he continued to pull ridiculous stunts like that,” Qui-Gon said, setting the sheets aside. He did not always like to think about his and Obi-Wan’s early years. 

“Great,” Cody drawled. “Crazy from the decanting tube, just what I always wanted to hear.” 

Qui-Gon looked up and shrugged. “I had hoped that age would calm his terrifying tendencies. It seems they are merely exacerbated by the war.” 

Cody emptied his glass. “You have no idea. Let me tell you about his grudge-match with Grievous.” 

= 

Obi-Wan was silent as he helped the men out of their smoking armor with the Force. The swamp gunk was smelly and it had drenched Waxer, Boil, and Crys from head-to-toe in a thick, noxious mud. The three scouts had come back covered in it, miserable, and asked for help. The armor was a lost cause, rapidly being consumed by the muck, and the men were loudly bitching as he stripped them. 

“W-what?!” Boil demanded as he looked at his brothers. 

Obi-Wan blinked, having been concentrating on getting the men free and not dripping the filth on them. But, oh, apparently it had…? 

Crys looked furious. His blond hair, that he had been particularly proud of, had been plastered to his skull by the mud and was now sliding down his face. All three of them, in fact, were rapidly losing their hair to the stinky muck. What was worse was that their normally tan skin was rapidly turning a fabulous shade of green. How it had gotten past the armor’s environmental locks was beyond Obi-Wan, but it had and there they were. 

“Uh, well?” Oddball said from behind the safety of Longshot. “At least now you two are really Numa’s nerra?” 

Obi-Wan pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the snicker, but it escaped anyway. Waxer looked resigned, grabbing Boil around the waist when his more temperamental brother would have lunged for Oddball, and Crys just muttered unhappily. Other members of Ghost Company picked up the laughter as Boil started shouting curses at them, Waxer holding him easily. 

“Did anyone see a stream?” Wooley asked, setting his rifle on his shoulder. “We should let you three get cleaned off.” 

“I want _boots_ ,” Boil hissed, calming down as Waxer still held him against his chest. “Planet is karking trying to kill us!” 

Obi-Wan felt cold fingers dance up his spine and turned, motioning for silence. The brothers around him passed on the signal and they crouched down. The crunch-clank of droids was obvious as they huddled down in the fog of the planet and Obi-Wan sighed. 

And then he heard it. 

That hiss-cough of Grievous. 

“Aw, stang,” Longshot whispered. 

“General,” Wooley murmured, wrapping a hand around Obi-Wan’s elbow to keep him in place. “We don’t know where they are.” 

“Yes, we do,” Obi-Wan said, feeling out with the Force. He knew exactly where that Kaleesh bastard was, could sense him, ached down to his bones to go after him. His men, though, needed him and so he stayed put. “We should get Boil, Waxer, and Crys cleaned off and come up with a plan.” 

“Call the Commander for reinforcements,” Wooley agreed. 

Obi-Wan gritted his teeth but gave a sharp nod. They could hear the droids moving off and he burned at hiding here, doing nothing, when that _murderer_ was so damned close. 

“Buzzer was working on putting a new comm together from what we had left, right?” he asked softly. Wooley nodded. “See how close he is to being finished and ask what else he needs.” 

He watched Wooley move off to their comms expert as he let out a breath and went to check on his three green men. They were going to get off this planet, all of them, alive, and he was...he was going to focus on that. He would try to avoid crossing ‘sabers with Grievous again, if only for the sake of his men. They didn’t sign up for anything more than a babysitting mission, not a full-scale war against Grievous. 

There would be other chances to exact revenge. 

He...would not let himself think too closely on that thought until they were off this planet. He was a Jedi Master, a High General of the Grand Army of the Republic. It was about time he started acting like it. 

= 

Cody was on the bridge with Rex, the two of them sketching down the rest of the 501st’s armor markings for Jinn, when the comms buzzed, cutting in and out, before going dead. He frowned at Rex and looked over at the pair of brothers on comm duty. 

“Hey, Cheeks,” he called. “What was that?” 

“Sorry, Commander,” Cheeks said, hands flying over the comm display. “Not sure. Don’t think the signal is strong enough to reach us, whatever it was, so I’m trying to boost our array.” 

“It kind of had our tag on the signal,” Fluke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it was weird.” 

“Weird how?” Cody asked, coming around the holotable he and Rex had been using to stand by the comm techs. 

Cheeks shrugged, “We have good tech, Commander, you know this. A weak signal like that, tag or not, something might have happened. It might be jammed, someone might be faking it, or someone grabbed a comm that was destroyed, rebuilt it, and it still has enough of our coding on it to still ping us.” 

“General’s on a planet we have no intel on,” Cody said. “It could be his typical run of luck.” 

Cheeks and Fluke looked at each other, grinning, before getting back to work. “Yessir,” they chorused. 

Cody rolled his eyes and went back to Rex, who had the smug grin on his face that made Cody itch to wipe it off, one way or another. “What?” he asked, picking up one of the styluses. 

“Nothing,” Rex said. 

“Stop it,” Cody muttered, poking Rex’s hand with the stylus. 

“I’m not doing a damned thing,” Rex said, still kriffing _grinning_. 

“Your mouth is making promises,” Cody said quietly. “It better be able to cash them later.” 

“Commander!” Fluke called. “We got the signal.” 

“Aw, stang,” Cheeks said, turning to look at them. “Uh, looks like the General found Grievous? On that planet that no one thought was important?” 

“Are you kriffing kidding me?” Cody asked, straightening and staring at his comm techs. They were pale and stunned looking; no, they weren’t kidding. He was putting his kriffing General on a kriffing leash, he swore to all the gods. “That just kriffing figures. By all the gods big and small, he gets in trouble by brewing a cup of tea. Message say anything else?” 

“Yeah,” Cheeks said. “They have no supplies, no ships, and uh. The planet is trying to eat them?” 

Rex made a strangled sound that for his sake better not be a laugh. Cody was going to kriffing murder his kriffing General. Ghost Company was down on the planet but he still had the entirety of 7th Sky and the rest of the 212th Battalion, which at this point might not be enough if kriffing Grievous was down there. He was very seriously considering calling in their other Corps, 21st Nebula, at this point just to babysit his idiot Jedi. 

“Are they engaging?” Rex asked. 

“It’s my General and it’s Grievous,” Cody said, staring at Rex. “That’s the _hut’uun_ who dropped the fire bombs on the last two AgriCorps planets before we could stop him. What do you think?” 

“Negative,” Fluke said. “Looks like the General just wants a quiet pickup.” 

Cody stared at him. “Are you kriffing kidding me?!” he shouted, too stunned to feel bad for the brothers he startled. If a yelling commanding officer was enough to send them jumping they needed to go back to karking basic training on Kamino, but he’d deal with that later--when he had the General and Ghost back on the _Negotiator_ and they were in hyperspace. 

Rex looked pretty stunned himself. “Was General Kenobi injured?” he asked. 

Cheeks sent the query but a negative response came seconds later. Rex and Cody stared at each other. 

“He’s snapped,” Rex said faintly. “Only explanation.” 

“Kriffing hells,” Cody said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “One of you tell them we’re scrambling what we can to get them. We’ll be prepared to deal with Grievous if we need to but we’ll keep it quiet.” 

“Yessir,” Fluke and Cheeks said. 

Cody shook his head, turning and heading off the bridge, cursing viciously in his head. Rex stopped to clean up the flimsis they had been drawing on before catching up with him. 

“Not engaging Grievous? Even before the Corps got wiped out he would have gone after him,” Rex said as they headed toward the barracks to rouse the rest of the men. “This doesn’t sound like the General.” 

“Kriffing throwing him at Sawbones,” Cody said. “What the kriffing hells is this?” 

“You’re swearing an awful lot, Cody,” Rex said. 

“I’m going to wring his skinny little neck,” Cody growled. “I don’t care how stressed he was being on board with all of us driving him nuts, putting himself and everyone else in the way of that karking madman is....” Cody’s shoulders slumped. “Aw, kriff. That’s why.” 

Rex frowned for a moment before he got it as well and then he sighed. “Hell.” 

“Still tossing him at Sawbones,” Cody said, rubbing at his scar. 

“Not going to stop you,” Rex said, holding up a hand. “He deserves every moment of retaliation you can come up with. 501st is here until Ahsoka gets back, so maybe plot revenge and wait to enact it until I’m gone?” 

Cody shrugged, reaching out to knock his hand against Rex’s. “We’ll see.” He smirked at Rex. “I might pull some strings, make sure the 501st sticks around a little longer. It’s only right, after all, that Ahsoka gets to meet her Great-Grandmaster, right? Jedi are into their lineages.” 

“You are a horrible man, Commander,” Rex laughed. 

“Revenge comes in many forms,” Cody said as he started banging on barracks doors. “I am not above using Jinn to torment my General. It’ll kriffing serve him right for making me save him--again!” 


End file.
